Know Thy Enemy
by nefarious-marshmallow
Summary: Draco is forced to live among Muggles for the summer and soon learns that living the Muggle lifestyle is a lot harder than it looks. And who else does he have to turn to for assistance than his bushy-haired next-door neighbor? DHr
1. The Boy Next Door

hey everyone! here's my latest d/hr fic, and this time, it'll be a multi-chaptered one. Please read and review! Thanks!

**Disclaimer**: JK Rowling owns them all. I'm just having a bit of fun here.

**Chapter One – The Boy Next Door**

Draco Malfoy felt very happy.

For one thing, Slytherin had beaten Gryffindor to win the Quidditch Cup for the first time in almost ten years. For another, Slytherin had won the house cup, this time beating the other houses (especially Gryffindor, Draco chuckled to himself) by an unholy margin of five hundred points. Best of all, it was the last day of school, which meant no schoolwork, no Dumbledore, and no Golden Trio for the next two and a half months. Of course, it also meant no more Slytherin first-years and numerous females to attend to his every whim, but that was beside the point. The important thing was that he, Draco Malfoy was out of this hell-hole and on the way home.

So it was with considerable surprise that Draco arrived to find Malfoy Manor bleaker, gloomier, and much emptier than usual. "MOTHER!" he boomed, dropping his trunks on the marble floor. "MOTHER!!!"

"Coming, Draco darling!" Narcissa Malfoy's voice echoed from the upstairs hallway. A few seconds later, she appeared at the top of the stairs and flew to her son's side. "Oh, my little dragon cub! How I've missed you!" she cried, throwing her arms around him.

"Get off me, mother!" Draco snapped, wriggling out of her grasp. "What's with the baby talk? And where the hell is my welcome home party?!" he yelled, referring to the annual bonanza his parents threw every year in honor of his return.

"Oh, Draco," she sighed, wiping the corner of her eye with a lacy handkerchief. "I hate to see you go away for so long."

"Sorry, I didn't know it affected you so much," he said sarcastically, surveying the empty front room. Where were the house-elves? Where was the buffet table? Why weren't silken green streamers hung across the stairwells? And most of all, where was the massive "Welcome home, Draco!" sign that usually hung on the upper balcony?!

"I wouldn't talk to your mother like that if I were you." Draco spun around to see his father standing on the stairwell.

"Father," Draco said, while Lucius swept toward him. "Why weren't you at the train station?"

"If you haven't realized it already, there are more important things in life than picking up one's son at a train station as if he were a sniveling first year," Lucius replied. "I'm a very busy man, Draco, and as you are nearly seventeen, I trust you are a very competent youth. Which brings me to my next point."

Draco scowled but knew better than to interrupt his father. Lucius paused and fondled a black jewel strung around his neck. "For the last few months, I've been preparing a special task for you to carry out this summer."

Narcissa sniffled and blew into her handkerchief. Lucius shot her a disdainful glare and turned his attention back to the jewel. "Well?" Draco asked, eager but cautious.

"This is a task that will test your ability to act cunningly, observe quietly, and adapt accordingly, Draco. You might call it an experiment of some sort – after all, it's never been attempted before, either by me, the Dark Lord, or any of his followers. And if all goes as planned, we'll be equipped with a nice little strategy by autumn."

"So what are you saying?" Draco asked warily. Something big was definitely going on, and he wasn't sure he wanted to be the center of it.

"Know thy enemy, my boy," Lucius chortled, looking darkly amused. Narcissa pressed her handkerchief to her heart. "Draco .... we're sending you to live among Muggles."

"WHAT?!" Draco bellowed, abandoning all cold pretense. "YOU'RE WHAT?!"

"You heard me," Lucius replied calmly, while Narcissa burst into hysterical sobs. "And as long as I'm the head of this household, there will be no shouting indoors."

"YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS!" Draco yelped. "This...this is SICK! You can't do this to me!"

"Silence, boy!" Lucius commanded, whipping out his wand and holding it dangerously close to Draco's contorted features. "Remember what I taught you about controlling your emotions! Do you want to end up like the Potter boy? Don't think I don't know about his erratic moods and behavior!"

Draco relaxed his expression and gazed listlessly at his father's wand before looking up. "Forgive me, Father. I was temporarily inflamed."

"Obviously," Lucius sputtered. "You clearly take after your mother." He glanced at Narcissa reproachfully and she put away her handkerchief. "Now then, where was I? Oh yes – the Muggles. Around this time tomorrow, you'll be transported by floo powder into a vacant house in a Muggle neighborhood. For two months, you will explore Muggle London and its surrounding area, taking careful note of Muggle methods of transportation, forms of entertainment, culinary styles, and the like. Your job is to create an extensive, detailed report on all you have seen and done and present it to me on the night of your return. During your allotted period of research, you will live like a Muggle, dress like a Muggle, and for Merlin's sake, act purely like one of those dim-witted creatures. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Draco replied, frowning slightly. "I just have one question – what exactly is the _point_ of doing this?!"

"Think, boy, think!" Lucius snapped impatiently, flicking his son hard on the forehead. "What did I say before? Know thy enemy, Draco!"

"So you want me to get all fuzzy with the likes of Creevey and Granger?" Draco asked, feeling somewhat nauseated.

"By understanding Muggles, and by knowing their weaknesses and strengths (if they have any), we will know best how to destroy them," Lucius snarled. "Find out about their lifestyle, Draco! Find out what makes them tick! Find out what makes them laugh, what makes them cry, what makes them scream in the middle of the night. Find out what drives them to murder each other! And you are to do it with _no magic whatsoever._"

"No magic!" Draco whined. "Why?! This is the first year I'm allowed to use magic outside of school! How am I supposed to cook and clean? How am I supposed to communicate with you? And while we're on the subject, how am I supposed to get around Muggle London and use Muggle appliances if I know absolutely nothing about them?"

"Draco, Draco, Draco," Lucius sighed. "Do you actually think I haven't thought this all out by myself? You'll be living next door to a wizard, who, if you play your cards right, will gladly take you around Muggle London. Using magic will be superfluous and risky while researching Muggles."

"Wait," Draco said. "So let me get this straight – I'll be living all alone next door to...to who?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Lucius replied. "Now get to bed, boy – tomorrow will be a long day."

"Yes, sir." Draco replied wanly, heading toward the stairs.

......................................................................................................................

"Now then, did you have enough to eat this afternoon?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Did you have a good night's sleep last night? It's going to be a long day."

"So I heard."

"What about underwear? Did you pack enough clean pairs? I know I—"

"Mother, please! I'll be fine!" Draco replied exasperatedly. "For the love of Mordred, I'll be living among _Muggles._ How hard can it be?!"

"The boy's right," Lucius said, untying a pouch of Floo powder. "Come along now, Draco."

"Honestly, Mother," Draco sneered, stepping into the fireplace. "I've never seen you so blubbery before."

"Clearly, you don't remember the first time you left for Hogwarts," Lucius remarked with some amusement.

"I just don't want him catching Muggle germs," Narcissa said disdainfully. "I'm warning you, Draco, if you get too close with them, you'll be no better than the Weasley clan."

"Trust me, you have nothing to fear," Draco replied, scooping out a handful of the green powder. "Well – I guess I'll see you in two months then."

It was then that his father did something very unexpected. For the first time Draco could remember, Lucius Malfoy stepped forward and enveloped his son in a warm embrace. He then let go, grinning oddly, but grinning nonetheless.

Draco gazed at him for a second before unclenching his fingers. Then all was black and silent save for a voice echoing into the darkness:

_"Know thy enemy, Draco!"_

A moment later, Draco slammed face-first onto the charcoal-laden floor. Groaning, he opened his eyes to find himself in the midst of what was obviously a Muggle living room. He picked himself up, dusted off his robes, and took a look around.

The house was decorated plainly and with a pastel motif. The walls were painted an ethereal shade of mint-green, vaguely reminding Draco of the hallways in St. Mungo's. In the middle of the room sat a peach-colored sofa set draped with crocheted coverings. To the right of the sofa set stood a very abstract, very ugly graphite sculpture resembling a mangled light-post. And a couple of feet in front of the sofa stood a chunky cabinet holding...what the....

Draco peered at his reflection glaring off the shiny black box. He tapped it with two fingers and then tried the buttons popping out of the side. He did the same with the two cloth-like boxes surrounding the main black one. Nothing happened.

"Freaks," Draco muttered, heading out of the living room to explore.

To the right of the living room lay the kitchen and the dining room. Draco peered quizzically at the various Muggle devices, such as a wooden box equipped with a timer and a label warning of something called radiation before stepping into the hallway.

The hallway led to five rooms; two bedrooms, a bathroom, a storage room, and another room containing a sparsely-filled bookcase and a white box similar to the black one in the living room. Feeling unexplainably curious, Draco ventured first into the bedrooms. What exactly did Muggles fill their most personal living spaces with? And just what did they do in there?

The first bedroom turned out to be disappointingly plain and under-furnished. A cream-colored queen-sized bed sat in the middle of the room with a bedside table on either side. In front of it stood another one of those black boxes. A wooden closet and two paintings of fruit were the only other pieces of furniture in the room.

Bored, Draco wandered into the next room, whose contrast to the first room easily made up to its messiness. Though considerably smaller than the master bedroom, this one proved to be a lot more interesting. Various pieces of clothing were strewn all over the carpeted floors and the lumpy, unmade bed. Glittery purple shelves overflowed with makeup cases and girlish knick-knacks. Draco noticed with some interest that the subjects in the posters plastered on the walls and ceiling stayed stationary, grins and poses and moments captured and eerily frozen.

The silence was broken when a childish, tinkling melody came blaring from outside. Pulling aside the curtain, Draco watched in wonder as a horde of Muggle children swarmed around a white truck topped with a luridly colored ice-cream cone.

"Line up, kids!" an old man yelled above the excited squeals and screeches. "Now, who's ready for some _ice cream_?"

"MEEEE!!!!" the children shrieked. "YAYYY!!!"

"I want a Mega-Monster Chocolate Fudgesicle," a small boy piped up, handing the man a small wad of flimsy paper.

"Two Rainbow Fairy Mountain Dreams and one Crazy Caramel Cruncher," a blonde girl said, trying to contain what looked like two of her hyperactive siblings.

Draco watched with mild bemusement for a few more minutes before closing the curtain. Not only did Muggles have freaky furniture, but they had freaky food as well. He couldn't even imagine what a Rainbow Fairy Mountain Dream could be.

Draco barely had time to think about it when another sudden noise rang through his ears – except that this time, the noise seemed to be coming from inside the house, rather than outside of it. He froze in his spot, eyes darting around wildly for any signs of danger....

He practically jumped when the peculiar (and incredibly annoying) noise resonated through the house again....and again...and again....by this time, he figured that no one was out to kill him. Some Muggle device had simply malfunctioned and gone off.

"SHUT UP!!!" Draco yelled out of irritation, plugging his ears. "SHUT UP, YOU FREAKING - "

"Hello?" The ringing noise stopped and was replaced by knocking. "Mr. and Mrs. Carter? Is everything all right in there?"

Draco pricked his ears and followed the noise, which seemed to be coming from the front of the house.

The knocking resumed. "Are you okay? Please open the door! It's just me, your next-door neighbor!"

The words "next-door neighbor" jolted Draco's memory, and without a second thought, he flung open the door. "Hello, I – BLOODY HELL, GRANGER!"

The bushy-haired witch appeared equally astonished. "MALFOY?" she exclaimed incredulously. "What on earth are you _doing _here?!"

Draco just gaped at her with a mixture of shock and revulsion.

"Um, Malfoy?" Hermione repeated, eyes bugging out slightly. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I am," Draco snapped, blinking back to reality. "What the hell are you doing here, Granger?"

"If you haven't noticed, I live in this neighborhood_,_" Hermione replied, picking up the white container she'd dropped on the floor. "And I've come to return this Tupperware container my mum borrowed from Mrs. Carter. Is she inside?" Hermione asked, peering behind Draco's lithe frame.

"Geez, Granger, what do you think?" Draco said, grimacing. "What would I be doing as a guest in a Muggle's house?"

"You could be robbing it, or in the middle of a murder attempt," Hermione answered crisply.

Draco snorted condescendingly. "Oh yes, I've come to murder stupid suburbian Muggles in broad daylight," he sneered. "And look who's come to save them: Hermione Granger, puritanical Gryffindor, defender of the weak and helpless, and all-around annoying mudblood witch. Oh, you've caught me this time!"

"Stop being a freak and shut up, ferret-boy," Hermione shot back, shoving the Tupperware container into his stomach. "Now put this inside and leave, all right? Just leave us alone." And before Draco could form a reply, she stalked off the porch and down the sidewalk.

"Hey Granger," Draco yelled, clutching the Tupperware. "Come back! You forgot to wash your mudblood germs off this thing!"

For a minute, Hermione didn't reply. Just as Draco turned to go back inside, she sprang back onto the porch and pushed him into the house, slamming the door shut behind her.

"What the heck is wrong with you?" she snapped, gripping him by the sleeve. "Do you know what you've just done?"

"Aw, did I just hurt the poor little mudblood's feelings?" Draco taunted with mock sympathy.

"No, Malfoy, you've just risked revealing the wizarding world!" Hermione replied frustratingly. "I mean, 'mudblood?' You could've used something less foreign!"

"It's not as if Muggles will immediately associate name-calling with magic," Draco said, pulling himself away from Hermione. "Please, they're not that intelligent. And I'm sure there are a lot of words, foreign and non-foreign alike that could describe you, Granger. There's no need to be picky....unless you want me to be." He leered toward her.

"Get away from me, Malfoy," Hermione breathed firmly, backing up a bit. "Or I'll have to resort to drastic measures."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Draco drawled, reaching behind him to draw his wand from his back pocket. He froze when he felt the bare cloth of his black dress pants.

"Malfoy?" Hermione said, obviously detecting a change in his expression. "Well?"

Draco felt his cheeks pale as the revelation dawned on him. His father hadn't given him a goodbye hug – he'd stolen his wand.

"Feeling scared, Malfoy?" Hermione said again, peering curiously at him.

"No – no, not at all," Draco replied quickly, frantically patting his hips and back pockets in case he was mistaken. "I'm just, er – "

"Is there a reason why you're patting your butt?" Hermione chuckled. "Geez, Malfoy, I know you're a bit of a coward, but there's no need to protect your ass before I even blow it to bits. Now stop being an idiot and tell me what you're doing here."

Draco cocked his head to the side. "And why are you so curious?"

Hermione looked at him as if he'd shrunken into a toadstool. "If you haven't noticed, Malfoy, you're standing in a Muggle house in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood just outside of Muggle London! And you're...you're Draco Malfoy, hater of all things non-wizard!"

"That would be me," Draco replied languidly, leaning against the peach-colored couch.

"You're not supposed to be here!" Hermione continued. "You're supposed to be at Malfoy Manor kicking around the house-elves! You're supposed to be totally opposed to the idea of even being _around_ Muggles, unless you want to murder them! Your being here doesn't make sense! It's illogical, it's weird, it's – "

"Unnerving? Surreal? I would have to agree," Draco replied, staring at his fingernails, which were perfectly trimmed and manicured. "If you really want to know, I've come to get a head start on my Muggle Studies class next year. Lucius thought a little preparation was in order."

"Wait," Hermione groaned, slowly rubbing her temples. "Wait – you're telling me that you, Draco Malfoy, are taking _Muggle Studies_ next year?! Whatever for?! And Lucius supports you?"

"First off all, it's _Mister Malfoy_, not _Lucius_," Draco replied scathingly. "And secondly, what's wrong with me taking Muggle Studies? Loads of people take it!"

"Well – it's not that there's anything wrong with it," Hermione said weakly. "It's just that...you're...you're – "

"- Draco Malfoy," Draco finished for her.

"Right," Hermione sighed. "That would be it. But you still haven't answered my question."

"Ignorance gets you nowhere, Granger," Draco said with the air of a teacher explaining something to a five year-old. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not be as oblivious as most of my father's associates."

"So you're going to live as a Muggle?" Hermione asked, astounded. "For how long? And with who? And...and how did you get this house?"

"Experience is the best teacher," Draco said, sounding bored. "I can't believe you haven't figured this all out yet, Granger. I expected more even from you. I'll live here as 'Draco Malfoy, Undercover Wizard,' till school resumes in the fall and then I'll be back to being 'Draco Malfoy, Wizard Superior' with a brand-new knowledge of those sadly below us. Obviously, I thought it'd be better for me to undertake this project alone. And as for the house, Granger, two words: Imperius Curse."

"Oh, Malfoy!" Hermione gasped, looking horrified. "You didn't! And they are such nice people, too!"

"You're right," Draco replied factually. "I didn't. My father did. And now they're nice people on vacation in the Emerald Isle. Happy?"

Hermione made her way to the couch and sunk down. "I can't believe this...I.... wait. So you'll be on your own for the next two months?"

"Evidently," Draco answered, staring at his nails again. "Honestly, Granger, I don't see why there's a need to ask so many questions. I'm just here to learn about jolly old Muggles and get an O in the class next year. Now get up, you're leaving mudblood particles all over the couch."

Hermione stood up and snorted. "You're in a Muggle _home_, Malfoy, so it doesn't make a difference. I just have one last question – do you know _anything_ about Muggles?"

"I know that they're stupid, freaky, and undeserving of life," Draco replied. "They take up _my _oxygen, _my_ land space, _my –_"

"Will you shut up and stop acting so superior?" Hermione chided him. "What I meant was, do you know anything about the Muggle lifestyle?"

"What's there to know?" Draco asked. "I mean, they eat, they sleep, and they breathe. What's so hard about it?"

"What's so hard about it!" Hermione exclaimed disbelievingly. "Malfoy, you don't know the first thing about Muggles! You don't know how to cook or how to use electricity or computers or money – you need help, Malfoy, major - "

"Stop telling me what I don't know!" Draco commanded. "It can't be that hard! You of all people should know – you've been to both the Muggle world and the wizarding world! Tell me honestly, which one is more sophisticated? Which one is more advanced? Which one is comprised of more intelligent, well-rounded people? Think about it, Granger!"

"In regards to your last question, I'd have to say 'Muggle world' after listening to your nonsensical, prejudiced ramblings," Hermione said coolly. "Seriously, Malfoy, if you need some pointers – "

"There you go again!" Draco laughed sardonically. "Why look, it's heroic Granger, channeling the noble spirit of Godric Gryffindor himself! If you're offering me help, I'll have to pass. I don't need you, Granger. I never have and I definitely never will. Now get out of my house!"

"Fine then," Hermione declared, heading toward the door. "I don't know why I stayed here for so long. And you're certainly far beyond the breach of my help, Malfoy, so even if I were offering it, it'd be useless. Goodbye, and have an excellent summer."

"I will!" Malfoy shouted back. "Now get a move on, Granger! You're infecting my air!"

Hermione spun around one more time before leaving. "You can't survive three days in this place, Malfoy," she snarled. "And I saw what you were doing a while ago – you were looking for your wand, weren't you? I see Harry doing that all the time. You don't have your precious magic. And without magic, you're NOTHING, Malfoy, NOTHING!"

"Get out!" Draco bellowed. "And never, EVER compare me to Potter!"

"At least he knows how to fend for himself in both worlds, ferret face!" Hermione yelled, after Draco had slammed the door. "Have fun figuring out how to use a spark plug!"

"ARRRGH!" Draco lost his temper and flung the forgotten Tupperware container at the door. "Just you wait, Granger! I'll prove you wrong! You'll see what Draco Malfoy is made of!"

**A/N:** All right, did you a) love it like a Draco plush toy b) like it like your Grandma's scratchy kisses or c) loathe it like a Xena-esque Hermione? Please tell me! I don't mind constructive criticism. I'd appreciate feedback as much as I'd appreciate a Caramel Frappuchino right now. Anyway, next time: Draco Malfoy vs. The Brave Little Toaster. Oh...and my apologies for Narcissa's behavior. She was feeling very vulnerable while I was writing this.


	2. I Will Survive

**Chapter Two – I Will Survive**

Draco was going to kill his father as soon as summer ended.

For someone so clever, cunning, and respected, Lucius sure had overlooked a lot of details in his little project. Either that, or he was purposely trying to kill his only son and the heir to the Malfoy fortune.

When presented with options like this, Draco tended to pick "Lucius is a sadistic killer" over "Lucius is a stupid prat."

This time, he felt strongly tempted to go with the latter. Just thinking it sent waves of resentful guilt into his body, as if Lucius were reading his every thought. Draco shuddered and returned to sulking.

Firstly, Lucius had sent Draco to a house whose occupants were on some kind of diet or hunger strike. Draco had scrounged every kitchen cabinet for food, but so far, all he could find were jars of spices, cans of soup and other preserved foods, boxes of cereal, and several bunches of fruit. What kind of stupid people would eat only fruit and whole-wheat cereal three times a day? If he ever doubted that Muggles weren't human beings, he certainly didn't now.

Secondly, Lucius had sent him into Muggle London with a pouch of Galleons, Knuts, and Sickles. So even if Draco wanted to buy food and supplies, he couldn't. His first idea had been to use some of the Muggle family's money but they apparently kept it all in a safe. If Draco had his wand, he could've blasted it open in a minute, or maybe even transfigured the wizard's money into the muggle currency. Unfortunately, Lucius, the quasi-stupid sadist, had prevented that.

He thought it couldn't get much worse when he remembered that he didn't know how to cook on a wizard's stove, much less on a Muggle one. He'd fiddled with a few of the knobs, but all that came out was a strange hissing noise accompanied by a sickly sweet odor.

"Bollocks," he muttered to himself, regretting not paying attention to Narcissa, who'd offered to teach him basic cooking skills for years. Even Blaise Zabini had encouraged him to take up cooking, claiming that women found chefs attractive, but noooo, Draco _had _to rely on the stupid house-elves and the flick of the wand to conjure roasted turkey, bottles of champagne, and cream-filled puddings....

His stomach growled at the thought. It'd been several hours since his last meal, and his energy was slowly waning from the disorientation and the crapped-out encounter he'd had with Granger earlier that day. Draco chuckled cynically at the thought of Narcissa's reaction if she knew her beloved "dragon cub's" (Draco shuddered again) state of living.

He was left with two options: A, He could experiment with the muggle objects some more and see if anything would happen, or B, he could take his father's advice, apologize to Granger, and beg her to help him.

Riiighht. As if he'd ever be _that _desperate. Scowling, Draco picked up a shiny box-like object and turned it upside down.

---------------

_BAM_. _CLANK. Ffffffffffttttt._

Third time today, Hermione thought to herself, chuckling silently over the pages of _Far From the Madding Crowd._ It was only a matter of time before something exploded.

Her mother adopted more concern toward the small pandemonium sounding from the house next door. "Hermione," Mrs. Granger said anxiously, pulling aside the kitchen curtain. "Is something going on at the Carters'?"

"Not that I know of," Hermione said absentmindedly, not looking up from her book.

"They don't normally throw parties," Mrs. Granger continued, peering out the window. "And there've been funny noises coming from their house the whole day...do you think they're all right?"

"Oh, I'm sure they're just doing a bit of summer cleaning," Hermione replied. "You know, clearing things out for a garage sale."

"And I'm sure rummaging through the broom closet involves explosive devices," Mrs. Granger said worriedly. "Really, Hermione, I think we should go over and check on them. Something's not right in there."

"Oh, Mum," Hermione sighed, hiding a smile as another loud clang issued from inside the house. "I'm sure you're just imagining things."

---------------

"GAHHHH!!!"

Draco yelled in shock and disgust as mushy bits of bananas and apples came flying at him and splattered all over his face.

Smearing the gunk out of his eyes, Draco frantically pushed several buttons on the whizzing, spluttering machine.

Crap.

"ARRGH!" He yelled again, shielding his eyes from bits of orange pulp and peach slime. Perhaps pressing buttons marked "puree", "liquidize", and "toss" at the same time wasn't the brightest of ideas.

Finally, Draco smashed the thing with a rolling pin right on its smarmy Blendmaster 2000 insignia. He laughed gleefully, watching the machine sputter and die. "Hahahaha!"

His stomach rumbled again. Perhaps knocking the fruit-filled container onto the ground wasn't the brightest of moves either. He could've at least had fruit guts for dinner.

Dinner. If his father had been thinking sanely, Draco would have been back at Malfoy Manor feasting on world-class cuisine at his own welcome home dinner banquet. Honey-roasted chicken marinated in honey....freshly-baked rolls that melted on the tongue....creamy, tangy lemon meringue pies....Pansy Parkinson cuddling his arm and attempting to feed him stuffed mushrooms....

....Then again, maybe he didn't feel so hungry after all.

---------

"Mum," said Hermione, putting down her book for the first time in two hours. "Could you do something for me?"

"Why of course, dear," Mrs. Granger replied. "As long as it's reasonable."

"Well," Hermione began, looking as if she'd been rehearsing. "It's my second night home from school, and as much as I liked Hogwarts' meals, I really missed your cooking. Do you...do you think you could make something nice for me tonight?"

"Oh, Hermione!" Mrs. Granger squealed, looking delighted. "Of COURSE I'll cook something special for you! It's been too long since I've fed my only child!"

"Good," Hermione said, licking her lips slightly. "Now, if it's not too much work for you, do you think you could make pork chops soaked in barbeque sauce? With breaded chicken strips, spicy buttered potatoes, and collared greens?"

"Sounds good to me," Mrs. Granger said, whipping out cookbooks and various cooking utensils. "What would you like for dessert?"

"I'm actually craving fudge brownies a la mode," said Hermione, and she quickly added, "though I can bake those myself to save you some work."

"Your father will be delighted. The house will smell heavenly when he comes home."

"Oh yes it will," Hermione said with a twinkle in her eye.

------------

"Caution," Draco read aloud, examining the warnings on the side of the microwave. "Use only for edible objects, do not stick live animals inside, beware of blah blah blah blah blah." He smirked and took a step back.

"Stupid Muggles need so many instructions," Draco remarked to no one in particular. "So many instructions that Draco Malfoy does not need."

He had to admit he was getting rather good at the whole Muggle thing. The box he'd seen earlier was obviously some kind of heating device for food. Now, if he could only find something to heat up....

Draco rummaged around in the cabinet and pulled out a can of pork and beans. It was crude fare, yes, but even Lucius would admit that it was better than pulverized pears.

Draco extracted the sharpest-looking knife from the knife rack and tore a sizable hole into the can. He stirred the contents with a fork and took a whiff. "Euurgh," he groaned to himself. It smelled like his old house-elf's pillowcase.

Grimacing, he put the can into the microwave, shut the door, and timed it for fifteen minutes. Draco watched with prideful satisfaction as his first cooked meal, can, fork and all rotated slowly on the carousel.

_Pop._ Draco listened with interest as his food began to cook. Take THAT, Granger! He gloated to himself. 'You won't survive three days here, Malfoy....' Ha! He'd do anything to have the presumptuous little bint see him now!

_Pop. Pop. Pop. Sizzle...._

----------

_DING!_

"Hermione, I think your brownies are done," called Mrs. Granger, sprinkling pepper into her cream of mushroom soup.

"I'll be right there," Hermione called back, continuing to stare out the window at the Carters' house, or rather, Malfoy's new summer palace. "I'm just, er, watching for Dad to come home."

It wasn't a total lie. She did miss seeing her father's cozy Honda Accord pull up the driveway, but in the meantime, staring at the house next door served as an adequate pastime.

In truth, she was waiting expectantly for Malfoy's screams of anguish, or for the house to burst into flames, or even for one of the walls to collapse. Judging from Malfoy's experiences with Muggles (next to none) and his knowledge of the Muggle world (once again, next to none), and his stubborn idiocy (like Lockhart, but without the looks, charm, and fame), an explosion or a minor catastrophe was practically inevitable.

As usual, Hermione Granger was right.

_KABOOM!_

"ARRRGHHHHHHHH!"

Hermione winced as a bright yellow light flashed from the house, briefly illuminating Draco's silhouette against the thick curtains.

"Hermione!" Mrs. Granger rushed toward the window and threw open the curtains all the way. "Did you see that? Did you hear that?"

Hermione continued to stare out the window and watched as smoke outpoured from her neighbor's now-open window. Coughing violently, Draco leaned out the window and gasped for air.

"Hermione," her mother said again. "Who – who is that?"

"I don't know, maybe I should ask," she said, and threw open the window, letting in the cool (and somewhat smoky) summer air and letting out the warm scent of her mother's home cooking. "You all right there?" she called out, opening the window a little wider. "Keep breathing – fresh air is good for irritated lungs!"

She couldn't help but grin as Draco lifted his blond, disgruntled head and glared at her with utmost loathing. "DAMN YOU, GRANGER!"

--------

Well, how was he supposed to know that metallic objects weren't supposed to be microwaved?

Granger sure seemed to think it was common sense.

"If you'd only read the instructions carefully, Malfoy," she scolded, "you would've known that only food and certain kinds of containers are microwaveable. You see, the waves tend to react with – "

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, save it for someone who cares," Draco muttered bitterly.

"You really could've hurt yourself, you know," Hermione continued, wiping down the microwave with an old hand towel. "Doing that was very dangerous. "

"Look, Granger, listening to you is the last thing I want to do right now, so will you just shut up and get out of here? I can take care of myself," Draco snarled.

Hermione snorted quietly and muttered something under her breath.

"What's that, Granger?" Draco sneered, taking a step closer. "Making fun of me, are you?"

Hermione rinsed the towel and rung it over the sink. She closed her eyes and took slow breaths.

"You think you're so great, Granger, with all your sodding Muggle knowledge and microwhatevers and home-cooked dinners and – "

"Actually," Hermione said sharply, not turning around. "I was praying for you rather hard, as you're definitely going to need the gods on your side to make it another week."

"Aww," Draco said mockingly, "Granger is worried about me! Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't need your charity."

"Will you just shut up for once and take a look around?" Hermione snapped, facing him. "Look at the floor! Look at the counter! Look at the microwave and blender! You've only been here twelve hours and already this place is a disaster zone!"

"And what do you intend to do about it?" Draco yawned, leaning against the counter.

"I could help you," she suggested softly.

"What?" Draco smirked again, but this time more dramatically. "Help _me_? Why Granger, I'm touched! What do you think, mudblood? No, thanks!"

"Fine then," Hermione replied brusquely. "I'll leave you to your own devices and won't bother you again. And you'd better be glad my father wasn't home to hear what you yelled to me a while ago."

Without saying another word, she strode out the door and down the street to her own house. She really didn't know why she'd offered to help Malfoy out in the first place. For heaven's sake, he was her long-time nemesis! The spoiled, bratty Slytherin prince! The son of a reputed Death Eater!

Perhaps she felt a bit guilty for letting the aroma of her mother's cooking waft out the window and into his face as he hacked and coughed in the smoke. But then again, he totally deserved it. First he'd let his father cast an illegal curse on innocent Muggles. Then he'd arrogantly refused her help. Either way, she wouldn't waste any more random acts of kindness on him.

"Hermione?" her mother called, as soon as she walked in the door. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mum," Hermione answered cheerily. "Dad home yet?"

"Yes, he's in the garage," Mrs. Granger replied. "Hermione....what happened over there? Who was that?"

"Oh, just someone from school who's borrowing the Carters' place for awhile," she said. "He had a little accident with the microwave."

"Oh dear," Mrs. Granger said, concerned once more. "Was he all right? Are you sure I shouldn't call an ambulance or something?"

"He's fine," Hermione answered irritably. "Besides, he was very rude to me awhile ago. He doesn't deserve our help."

"Hermione!" her mother exclaimed. "I'll admit that his language was quite unnecessary, but that wasn't very nice!"

"Well, neither is he," Hermione said curtly. "Now let's forget about him and eat our dinner."

----------------

The next two days were pretty uneventful.

At least they were for Hermione Granger, who spent her time reading classic literature, cutting patterns for house-elf clothing, and potting gardenias in the front yard. There was also the occasional soap opera thrown in, but she didn't like admitting to watching those.

Meanwhile, Draco gave up cooking and took up a vegan diet. For breakfast that morning, he had two bananas and half of a tangerine. For lunch, he gorged down three crabapples and another banana.

Hunger wasn't the only thing bothering him. The fact that there was nothing to _do_ bugged the hell out of him.

Draco ventured to the Muggle bookshelf and pulled out something called _Bridget Jones' Diary._ He read the first page, then skimmed through the rest of the chapters.

Whoever this Bridget Jones was needed some serious cheering charms, or maybe even a brain transplant. He'd never read anything so girlishly trivial in his life.

The next book he pulled out,_ The Shining,_ actually spooked him a bit. This Stephen King guy wasn't a bad writer, for a muggle.

In the middle of the seventh chapter, the doorbell rang, making Draco jump. Bloody hell, couldn't Granger just leave him alone? He didn't ask her to show up the night before, and he was sure he'd made it clear that she should stay out of his sight.

The doorbell rang twice more. "Fine, fine, fine," Draco muttered under his breath. He opened the door to and was surprised to find a pimply-faced, uniformed teenager standing on the porch. "Yes?" Draco asked.

"I'm here to pick up Mrs. Carter's dry cleaning, sir," The nerdy young man said, holding up a black flannel bag.

"Er, what?" Draco asked. What in the name of Mordred was dry cleaning?

The man looked confused. He pulled out a dog-eared piece of paper from his back pocket. "It says here that I'm supposed to pick up her stuff today, like how Max did every other Tuesday until he got sacked."

"Er, well, go on then," Draco stammered, opening the door a little wider.

Pimple Boy looked even more confused. "Ehh, so where are her clothes?"

Draco felt a flood of relief wash over him. So that's what he wanted! Clothes! "Oh, um, I'll be right back," he said, and rushed over to the master bedroom. He pulled out some random pieces of clothing from the wardrobe and dumped them in Pimple Boy's arms. "There you go!"

Merlin, was the dry cleaning fellow's face permanently fixated into a confused look? "Er," he said again. "Are you sure this is right? We don't normally dry-clean plastic raincoats or cotton T-shirts."

"Well the Carters obviously aren't normal people then," Draco quickly replied, slamming the door in Pimple Boy's face.

"Well, that was a first," Draco said to himself.

And it wasn't the last, either.

_Ding-dong!_

A greasy-skinned, burly man stood in the doorway carrying a large briefcase and several tools. "So," he said gruffly. "I hear there's something wrong with your computer's performance."

"Er...what?" Draco asked. He was feeling stupider by the hour.

"Your computer's performance, sir," The man replied. "We got a call from you saying that you'd accidentally downloaded a virus and it'd destroyed your system and deleted your files. Now, the good news is, I don't need to install a whole new hard drive, but we might need to reinstall Windows and set you up with a more secure connection. May I come inside?"

Draco thought quickly. Now, what would Salazar Slytherin do in a situation like this?

"Uh, wrong house! Better re-check your map!" Draco stammered, quickly shutting the door. To hell with his usually smooth, Slytherin ways. He was in Muggle London!

Merlin, this was crazy.

_Ding-dong!_

Oh, bloody hell!

Draco wouldn't have answered the door if the nosy visitor hadn't stuck his face against the window. "Hellooo, there! I can see you!" The man chirped.

Sighing resignedly, Draco unlocked the door. "May I do something for you?" he asked.

His visitor wore a crinkle-free earth-colored suit and carried what appeared to be a large stack of tracts under his elbow. "Good day, sir," he began, smoothing down his stiff, parted-down-the-middle chestnut hair. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?"

"I guess," Draco replied dismissively. "This is kind of a bad time, sir, so can you make it quick?"

"My good man," The bloke chuckled, shuffling the tracts. "The little time you have now is so small when compared to your future eternity. Do you know where you'll be spending it?"

"Why does it matter to you?" Draco asked impertinently. "Are you a friend of the Carter's? What do you want?"

"It matters to me because _you_ matter to me," The man continued airily. "And I can be your friend, because we are all friends in the Brotherhood of Men. Now, I know you must be confused, scared, and lonely at this point in your life. But I can help you find a way out of this prison. I can help you see the truth! I can lead you to the light, if you will just let me."

"No thanks, I'm fine," Draco replied. There was something very queer about this man.

"With the Brotherhood of Man, you can be fulfilled!" The man continued excitedly. "And best of all, your soul will have peace and security! We are led by a wise guru who has been given visions from above! And he has gladly decided to share these visions with us!"

"Good for you," Draco snapped. "Now leave! I've had a long day."

"Join the Brotherhood!" cried the man. "We are not a cult! We are a brotherhood! And if you decide to come," he said eagerly, stuffing a tract into Draco's unwilling hands, "make sure you bring fifteen pounds with you to support our beloved leader!"

For the third time that day, Draco slammed the door in a visitor's face.

-----------------------

Hermione had just finished patting down the organic fertilizer when she heard what sounded suspiciously like a triumphant yell from behind her.

"Ha-HA!"

She cocked an eyebrow at Draco, who was punching the air and brandishing a....toaster?

"Am I just hallucinating, Malfoy, or have you finally cracked?" she called over the fence.

"Don't be stupid, mudblood," Draco cackled. "Oh, wait, that's impossible. As I was demonstrating, I've figured out how to use a...a...."

"Toaster?" Hermione suggested. Well, what do you know, Malfoy wasn't a total imbecile after all....

Just kidding.

"....I've cooked bread!" he announced pompously, flaunting what strongly resembled a brick of charcoal.

"You don't cook bread, you toast it!" Hermione snickered. "Geez, Malfoy, you're supposed to be making toast! You know, breakfast food?"

"Of course I know what toast is," Draco replied, biting into his newest creation. "And it's quite tasty, if I do say so myself."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "I'm not that daft, Malfoy. Now spit that out before it gives you indigestion." She spun around and went back inside through the back door.

Draco spat the "toast" onto the grass and ground it underfoot. He hated it when Granger was right.

Although, now that he'd seen her in shorts, she _did_ have nice legs.

Did I just think that? Draco asked himself in horror. He gazed at the burnt toast and tossed the rest of it into the bushes. Maybe he _was_ suffering from indigestion.

**A/N: **Thanks to those who reviewed last time! This chapter was a heckload harder to write than the last one, for some reason. If you've gotten this far, please review! You guys motivate me!

To answer your questions, yes, they are still in Hogwarts, and if I could, I would sew Draco plushies and mail them to you all. Maybe I should give up writing, take up sewing, and start my own Draco Plushie business...ponders

And my apologies for all the Americanisms in this fic.

Next time: Draco's dilemma, patching up the holes, and if all goes as expected, an angry encounter with Lucius.


	3. Stretch Shorts and Orange Pulp

A/N: I'm so sorry for making you wait nearly a month for this. I had writer's block with this chapter and school just started, so I'm pretty busy…but I'll do my best to get these up faster! Thank you for reviewing! You guys give me something to look forward to!

Chapter 3 – Stretch shorts and Orange Pulp

During the second week of the summer between sixth and seventh year, Draco did something he wouldn't even had considered a few days beforehand.

He came back to Hermione Granger and asked for her help.

And on that day, she did something that left him humiliated and angry but little surprised.

She refused.

------------

"Granger."

Hermione didn't answer, but continued flipping through what looked suspiciously like a charms textbook.

"Grangerrrr…"

Hermione took a loud sip out of her iced tea and adjusted her hat.

"Granger!"

"What do you want now, Malfoy?" she sighed, still immersed in the textbook.

"Granger, I've come to offer you a proposition."

"If it has anything to do with my helping you out or giving you a grand tour of London, then you might as well forget it."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Draco drawled. "I've come to make a deal with you."

"A deal?" Hermione sputtered, choking on her iced tea. "Do I really look that thick, Malfoy? You don't use compromises, you use tricks and manipulation!"

"Why Granger, you don't have to be so judgemental," Draco said, feigning hurt. "Now listen to me. Due to some unexpected obstacles, my Muggle Studies research has been going rather slowly."

"So I heard," Hermione grumbled. "Look, Malfoy, I already said no. You got yourself into this, and you'll have to get yourself out of it."

"Come on, Granger! It won't be that hard…and once we're through, I'll pay you with this." Draco emptied a small pouch of Galleons into her lap.

Hermione rolled her eyes and scooped up the coins. "You – are – positively- vile," she seethed. "What do you take me for, your personal employee? There are three reasons why I won't help you, Malfoy, so listen up."

Draco cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "I'm ready when you are," he replied idly.

"Firstly, you foolishly refused my help twice. Secondly, you didn't _ask_ for my help yesterday, you demanded it. Thirdly, you tried to bribe me! I can't believe you!" She shoved her charms textbook under her arm and stood up from the lawn chair. "Goodbye, Malfoy, and have a great summer."

------------

That night, Draco lay in bed with a stubborn bout of insomnia.

It'd been uncharacteristic for him to go back to the little Mudblood for help (he shuddered at the thought) but there really hadn't been anything else he could do.

There was just no more denying it. It'd been nearly two weeks since his father had sent him here, and during that time span, he accomplished next to nothing. Somehow, he doubted Lucius would be content with the observation "Muggles are freaks."

What troubled Draco the most, however, was not the fact that he'd practically admitted defeat to Granger, but that Lucius had practically suggested he do so in the first place. After all, wasn't it _Lucius_ who arranged that he live next to Granger? Why would Lucius, who was a pureblooded supremist if Draco ever saw one, purposely set up his son with a Muggle-born witch?

This could only mean one thing. Draco would use Hermione Granger as a tool, and once the summer was over, he'd be rid of her. Granger was intelligent, economical, and resourceful, which Draco could use to his advantage. The best thing about her, however, was that she was, well, kind-hearted.

So maybe she hadn't been that nice to him for the last few days, but he knew he'd break her eventually. Merlin, she was _Hermione Granger,_ house-elf rights advocate and one-third of Dumbledore's fighting frenzy. She befriended people like Longbottom and Weasley. She warmed up to werewolves and half-giants. Hell, it was enough that she'd volunteered to help him in the first place!

He'd break her if it took him all next month.

Still unable to sleep, Draco slid out of bed and headed to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. Grumbling to himself about sleeping draughts, he shuffled toward the refrigerator (which he'd only learned was there four days ago) and threw it open, bathing the kitchen in warm orange light and frosty mist.

With the lights still turned off, he took a large gulp of water and seated himself on the couch.

"You shouldn't leave the refrigerator open, you know," a female voice said in the darkness.

Bolting upward, Draco flipped on a light switch to find Hermione Granger seated on the easy chair beside him. "Granger!" he yelped, nearly dropping his glass. "How the hell did you get in here?"

Hermione flicked her wand upward and tucked back into her jeans pocket. "_Alohomora,_" she replied silkily. "It's so convenient being of age. And you really should close the refrigerator door."

"You're intruding on personal property," Draco growled, standing up and slamming the door shut. "It's past midnight, so get out of here."

Hermione snorted derisively. "Excuse me? _Personal property_? This isn't even your home!"

"You know what I mean," Draco sat back down and stared pointedly at her. "How long have you been waiting here?"

"It's been nearly half an hour," Hermione said, glancing at her watch. "And if you hadn't come down just now, I would've woken you up."

"Craving some action, Granger?" Draco drawled, now fully recovered from the surprise of seeing her in his living room. "You could've just asked, you know, but then again I would've refused…"

"Shove it, Malfoy," Hermione snapped. "Tomorrow morning, you and I, right here and ready to go – "

"Why Granger!" Draco cackled delightedly. "I knew y-"

"I thought I told you to shove your dirty mind, Malfoy!" Hermione continued. "From tomorrow until you leave, you'll let me teach you how to live the Muggle life. You got that?"

"Wait – you've changed your mind?" Draco asked skeptically.

"Suffering doesn't favor you," Hermione replied. "I'll meet you here tomorrow with a list of goals and a projected agenda for the summer. Just be awake, cooperative, and ready to learn."

"Whatever you say, Granger," Draco said, leaning back into the couch. "Now go – I've got to get some sleep."

But she was already gone.

----------------

"Rise and shine!"

Draco groaned and pulled the covers over his head as he heard the curtains being thrown open. "Granger," he whined. "It's too early for this."

"It's never to early to learn," Hermione replied matter-of-factly. "Now get up! We have a lot to do today."

"Come back in two hours, Granger," Draco muttered, pulling the covers farther over his head. "I need my sleep."

He'd nearly dozed off again when the covers suddenly flew off him, revealing….

"EEK!"

"I told you to sod off, Granger!" Draco yelped, grabbing a pillow to shield his nearly-bare bottom. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"You asked for it," Hermione growled, blushing furiously. "Now – now put on some clothes and meet me downstairs."

"Fine, fine, fine," Draco said perterbedly, rising from the queen-sizer and running a hand through his disheveled blond hair.

He squinted slightly against the sun before glaring at Hermione, who stood watching him at the end of the bed. "Excuse me," he said firmly, grasping the tan and white striped coversheet around his waist and sweeping past her. "My privacy, Granger."

"Ten minutes, Malfoy," Hermione replied, still blushing slightly as she edged past him and stepped out the door. "I'll be waiting."

Twenty minutes later, Hermione sat alone in the living room tapping her foot impatiently.

Honestly, what was taking him so long? Guys never spent _that_ long primping themselves (or by the look of Harry and Ron most mornings, guys didn't primp themselves at all.) But then again, Malfoy was an exception. He was a spoiled, egotistical little brat who wore nothing but little black stretch shorts to sleep.

Black stretch shorts. Hermione could just imagine how the girls in Hogwarts would react if they'd laid eyes on what she'd unfortunately seen that morning. They weren't styled like exercise shorts either – they were shorter than boxers, ending about five inches below his groin….

Hermione shuddered and ventured to the kitchen, where she inspected the refrigerator and food cabinets. All were nearly devoid of fresh food – Malfoy and the Carters sure managed to clean up well. She extracted a neatly folded list from her jeans pocket, crossed off a few items, and added a couple more.

Hermione checked her watch again. Had Malfoy died or something? What did he do, slip on the soap and lapse into a coma? She stormed down the hallway and pounded on the door. "Malfoy!" she yelled above the sound of the shower running. "Are you nearly done?"

"Nearly done?" came Draco's voice from the other side of the door. "Granger, I've just begun conditioning my hair!"

"COINDITIONING YOUR HAIR?" Hermione screeched. "Does the word 'metrosexual' mean anything to you, Malfoy? Not even _I_ take this long to wash myself!"

"I would've known that by the looks of _your_ hair," Draco drawled, dropping a bar of soap. "Oops, clumsy me…."

"You'd better be out of there in five minutes or you can just forget about my helping you!" Hermione threatened, stalking back out the hall. It was already past ten – they were wasting time, precious time….

She waited in the living room for a few minutes but found that she couldn't stand it any longer. "Malfoy!" she bellowed again, "are you nearly done?"

"Relax, Granger," Draco called back leisurely. "I'm just rinsing o- "

Hermione didn't hear him finish. She made her way to the second bathroom, and without bothering to turn on the light, placed her finger over the toilet flusher and gave him a final warning. "All right Malfoy, you asked for it!" she yelled, and shoved down the handle as hard as she could.

Hermione smiled deviously to herself at the sound of the toilet flushing embroiled with Draco's sharp yelping and swearing. "WHAT THE CRAP, GRANGER!"

"It's ironic that you should use that terminology," Hermione chirped. "Now get your arse down here or you'll be left with much bigger problems than what I've already given you!"

Hermione heard the door unlock and watched as Draco Malfoy emerged from the bathroom amidst a thick cloud of steam. He glared pointedly at her before breaking into his trademark smirk. "I know you like me to stand here and let you stare, Granger, but I really must get dressed."

"Shut up and get some pants on," Hermione snapped, blushing once again.

She waited only ten minutes before Draco arrived in the living room, fresh and clean and smelling vaguely of Irish Spring. "Well?" he said, sitting down across from her.

"Now that you've finally decided to show up, I'll show you our agenda for today," Hermione said briskly, whipping out the folded piece of paper and smoothing it out in front of him. "Today, we will learn the bare necessities of living. You'll learn the basics of a Muggle home, such as cooking, communication, and plumbing. These things will allow you to live as comfortably as if you were retired."

"Retired. Right," Draco repeated after her. "So, when do I eat? I'm starved."

"Lesson One," Hermione said dutifully, rising from the couch. "Making breakfast." She led him into the kitchen by the hook of his arm. "This is the kitchen."

"Obviously," Draco muttered, yanking his arm from hers. "Now hurry up, Granger, my stomach can't wait that long."

"And this, as you probably already know, is a toaster," she continued. "After you master using this thing, I'll introduce you to the electric stove."

"I already know how to use a toaster!" Draco protested. "I've used it dozens of times!"

"And produced charcoal," Hermione said dryly. "C'mon, I'm gonna show you how to really make a meal." She opened her backpack and took out a small loaf of sliced bread. "Now listen and learn."

Draco scowled but remained silent as he watched her push two pieces of white bread into the vents and adjust the timer accordingly. "While that's going, we're going to make something to drink," she said, extracting a three oranges from her knapsack. "While manufactured juice is tasty, affordable, and readily available, I find home-squeezed juice more healthy and practical," Hermione said, plugging in a little white contraption. "This is an electric juicer."

"Is everything here powered by electricity?" Draco asked out of the blue. So that was what the holes in the wall were for.

"More or less," Hermione replied. "It's really quite ingenious. Electricity works by – "

"I know how it works," Draco interrupted her. "Now move it, Granger, I'm a very busy man."

"Ask me a question, and expect a thorough answer," Hermione remarked coldly, slicing the orange in half. "Now hold this upside down and place it firmly on the juicer."

Draco squeezed down as hard as he could while Hermione flicked on the switch. "Here you go," she said shortly, handing him a glass of pulpy orange liquid.

Draco took a large swig of the juice and licked his lips. "Not bad, Granger. Not bad at all."

A/N: I'm sorry that you waited so long for this chapter and it turned out to be so short and uneventful. I just needed to get the major event here out of the way till I could really get going. I already have big plans for the future chapters! Next time: Draco Malfoy….master of household appliances? More D/Hr interaction!

The next one will be up much sooner, I promise!


	4. The Bare Necessities

**A/N:** Ha! I told you it'd be up sooner! I didn't expect to finish this tonight – it all just came out in one sitting. Well....enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns them all

**Chapter 4 – The Bare Necessities**

"This place is filty," Hermione remarked, swiping the countertops with the tip of her forefinger. "When was the last time you cleaned?"

"Cleaned?" Draco repeated, drying his hands on a towel. He'd just finished loading the plates in the dishwasher and wondered what was in store for him next.

"Cleaned," Hermione said again, bending down to lift a daisy-patterned floor rug. She sneezed and looked up at Draco, who watched her bemusedly. "A foreign concept, isn't it, Malfoy."

"Of course not," Draco replied irritably. "You think I don't go a day without seeing those house-elves waving around mops and featherdusters?"

"Cleaning _by yourself,_ Malfoy," Hermione said, though she knew he'd known very well what she meant.

"It's not that hard, I'd just rather not do it," said Draco. "We're wasting precious time here, Granger. You have your wand. Perform a cleaning spell on the floor and we'll be done with it."

"Don't be ridiculous, Malfoy, housecleaning is a part of the whole muggle experience," Hermione replied, making her way toward the hallway closet. "Basics first, Malfoy!"

"I'm not a maid, Granger, I – what the hell is that?" Malfoy asked, raising his eyebrows as Hermione dragged a rather bizarre-looking contraption toward him. He watched as she attached a long accordion tube to a wheeled object and rolled it toward him.

"Hold this," Hermione said, stuffing the tube into his hand. "As you'll soon find out, muggles clean their houses very differently than wizards do."

She plugged the rubber-coated chord into the wall and turned toward Draco. "Ready, Malfoy?"

"Er – "But before Draco could reply, she snapped on a switch, causing the machine to erupt into ominously violent whirring and sucking noises. "Granger! What is this?" Malfoy yelped, nearly dropping the tube.

"What you're holding is the throat of a vacuum cleaner," Hermione said, grinning widely. "This was invented to save muggles some time during house-cleaning, because unlike wizards, they – hey! I'd advice you to keep your face away from the opening."

"I wasn't going to do anything," Draco muttered. "Enough history, Granger, what am I supposed to do with this thing?"

"Lower the tube toward the ground....no, lower....even lower....Merlin, Malfoy, just put the tube to the floor!"

Draco did as he was told and saw no visible results. "What's going on? Don't tell me this thing is sucking away the dirt at my feet...."

"That's exactly what it does," Hermione replied, smiling like how a teacher would to a primary school student who'd just learned to spell his first three-letter word. "Just move the vacuum back and forth around the furniture until you've covered the whole room."

For awhile, Draco seemed unsure of himself, but once he got the hang of it (it didn't take very long), he replaced his innocuous expression with his usual confident one. "When did muggles think up this thing, Granger?" he asked, moving the tube back and forth like a pro stay-at-home father.

"The first vacuum cleaner was patented a little less than a hundred years ago," Hermione replied, helping him move the abstract sculpture out of the way. "It took awhile for people to grasp the idea, but once it was marketed, it spread like wildfire across the United States and later, across Europe."

"I'll admit that this beats sweeping," Draco remarked, vacuuming the area behind the TV cabinet. "But if you ask me, this thing is entirely inane."

"No it isn't," Hermione argued. "The vacuum cleaner makes clever use of electricity, motors, and the physical principles of friction and pressure. It's all very scientific, you see."

"Scientific?" Draco asked.

"Science, Malfoy, the study of how the physical world functions," Hermione replied dryly.

"I know what science is," Draco said, sounding annoyed. "It's just that – "

"- that wizards don't need it," Hermione finished for him. "Unlike muggles, Malfoy, wizards have magic, which makes all things easy and convenient. Everything is do-able and accessible by the wave of a wand and the muttering of an incantation. Wizards decided long ago that they don't need science, which is why they don't use it or even bother to study it, which I think is a pity."

"Are you nutters, Granger?" Draco snorted. "Ever heard of Magicology? If that's not science, I don't know what is."

"Magicology is the study of how things work in the context of the wizarding world and under the assumption that magic exists and plays a part in all cosmic activity," Hermione argued, pushing aside a cabinet. "That's really not the way things actually are."

"What do you mean that's not the way things are?" Malfoy exclaimed incredulously. "You may be a Mudblood, Granger, but I won't deny that you're a witch!"

"Magic is only an ability certain people have to contort the rules of the physical universe," Hermione said factually. "What differentiates wizards and muggles is the fact that wizards can somehow go beyond the rules defined by science. No one really knows how we can do this – all we know is that we can defy the law of gravity at will. We can manipulate the natural movements of subatomic particles and create light from seemingly nowhere. The rules are there, Malfoy, we just aren't paying attention to them."

"What's the point?" Draco asked, maneuvering the vacuum away from Hermione. "Why study the rules? Why know the rules if they don't apply to us?"

"But that's what everyone's mistaken about, Malfoy! They do apply to us!" Hermione burst out. "Think about it – you can't properly break the rules unless you know them. Think about what we could achieve if we only studied the physical laws of the universe! If we knew about forces or the properties of the elements, we'd better know how to manipulate them! We could even study ourselves and try to find out what exactly makes us magic. We could study disorders and diseases and see if we can't find a way to work around them!"

Draco cocked an eyebrow at her but remained silent while continuing the vacuum the floor. "Don't you want to know what's actually happening when we cast a spell, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, this time a little less eagerly.

"Play with your muggle sciences all you want, Granger, but I'm telling you that it really doesn't matter in the wizarding world," Draco replied obnoxiously. "We're happy with the way things are. There's no use dabbling in what we've already defeated. We have our ways, they have theirs."

"But if you'd only give the muggles a chance, Malfoy, you'd see how ingenious they really are! Look how they've managed to adapt without the use of magic! They've taken the rules and applied them to daily life! They've taken what wizards have ignored for eons and put it to good use!"

"I don't know about you," Draco snarled, leering down at her. "But I don't look down upon my own kind."

"We're all the same kind, Malfoy! We all have the same level of intelligence. We're all human...we just live two different lifestyles." Hermione glared back at him with stubborn defiance.

"How long will it take you to figure it out, Granger? We're not the same! Can muggles transform ordinary objects into animals? Can muggles travel through time? Can muggles inflict pain upon each other using merely a two-syllable word? Put a lid on it, Granger!" Draco barked, shoving the vacuum tube behind the sofa. "And we ARE better than them!"

"Now that's just an immature presumption!" Hermione said shrilly. "I just – I just – arrgh, I've had enough of this, Malfoy. You'll learn it slowly and eventually, just like everyone else. And by the way, I don't look down on my own kind. I'm just pointing out our flaws. Everyone has them."

"Obviously," Draco muttered, turning his attention back to the vacuum cleaner.

They didn't speak until Draco had made his way around the whole room. "Now what?" he asked irritably, holding the spout straight up.

Hermione switched off the power and unplugged the vacuum. "Now it's time to vacuum the next room."

Draco groaned and followed her down the hallway.

_-------------------------_

BRIIIIING!

Draco jumped from his seat, his eyes darting around the room. "Granger!" He called at the top of his lungs. "Grannnngeeerrr!"

He heard the flush of a toilet and the sound of running water. "I'm coming, I'm coming," Hermione yelled from inside the bathroom.

The shrill rining went on for a few more minutes before Hermione picked up the handset of a white, numbered box and spoke into it. "Hello, this is the Carter's residence."

Draco watched her curiously. "Oh, I'm sorry, they're away on vacation....this is Hermione Granger....oh, I'm just doing a bit of housecleaning for them.....yes.....no.....oh, I'm not sure about that....oh, all right. I'll be sure to tell them when they come back. All right? Thank you, bye-bye." She set down the handset and gave Draco a very pointed glare.

"Do you really have to beckon me so desperately when you're in distress, Malfoy?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Well – I didn't know what that thing was!" Draco pouted.

"Honestly, it wasn't like it'd kill you to wait it out," Hermione sighed. "I know you're spoiled at home, but you've got to fend for yourself here."

"Isn't that what I've been doing for the last week?" Draco said impatiently. "And don't you dare call me spoiled, Mudblood. I'm just privileged, unlike you and your little orphaned and impoverished friends."

"Do you want me here or not, Malfoy? Because I can leave whenever I want to and you'll really have to fend for yourself," Hermione put a hand on her right hip. "What'll it be, Malfoy?"

"Fine," Draco said resignedly. A few seconds of silence passed between them before he said anything else. "What is that thing, anyway?"

"It's called a telephone," Hermione sighed. "Muggles use it to communicate over long distances."

"Oh," Draco replied. Great, one more uselesss muggle contraption. "I see."

"I suppose you want to know how it works?" Hermione asked. "I'm sure you'll cover this in Muggle Studies next year."

"Mug – oh, oh yeah," Draco said quickly. "I'll go get my notebook."

Hermione watched as he made his way to the master bedroom. There he was, standing just a few feet away from her, yet she still couldn't believe she was spending her summer here with him in muggle suburbia. The other girls would go mad when they found out. Harry and Ron would go mad when they found out. Actually, knowing them, they'd probably laugh at the thought of Malfoy using a computer or baking shepherd's pie.

Draco appeared presently and sat himself back down on the couch. "So how does this telly – tele – "

"Telephone," Hermione helped him. "A phone line networks the telephones in a certain area, allowing messages to be transmitted from home to home. Everyone's phone is assigned a number, so to call someone, you punch that number into the telephone. This sends a signal to the other phone, making it ring."

"I see," Draco said again, scribbling in his notebook. He really didn't see why Lucius would need a telephone, but taking notes was always a good front – especially in front of Hermione Granger, wizard geek epitomized.

"Try it," Hermione suggested, handing him the handset.

"Try it?" Draco repeated dubiously, taking ahold of the plastic apparatus. "But who should I call?"

"I'll go over to my house and you can call me there. When I pick up the phone, you'll know you've succeeded. Here's my number," Hermione scribbled it on a scrap of paper and handed it to Draco. "Call me in about two minutes."

Draco nodded and watched her walk to her house next door. As soon as she disappeared around the hedge, he carefully dialed the phone number and waited.

Three rings passed before he heard a click on the other end of the line. "Hello, Malfoy?" Hermione's voice chimed, sounding somewhat crackly. "You've done it! Congratulations!"

"Yes, why don't we just throw me a big party?" Draco joked. "I hereby mark June 16 as the day a Malfoy communicated by a means other than a fireplace."

"Good on you," Hermione said, and then put down the phone.

Draco heard the phone go dead and listened curiously at the strange, synthetic humming coming from inside the handset. Just as he put it down, the door opened and Hermione walked in holding a container of something that smelled simply heavenly.

"Lunch, Malfoy?" she asked, setting the aluminum container down and revealing a home-baked batch of beef cobbler. "Compliments of my mother. She and dad are at a dentists' conference."

Draco didn't say anything, but quickly set the table for himself and dug into the meal.

"Ahem," Hermione coughed, reminding herself vaguely of Dolores Umbridge.

"Oh," Draco said through a moutful of food. "Thelloormuvferfanks."

He almost reminded her of Ron, but then Hermione stopped herself from saying anything. Malfoy was a twit, she told herself, a spoiled little ferret who, at sixteen, lacked proper manners or consideration for others. He was demanding, snobbish, and more than a little obnoxious.

But if he was really all of these things, and maybe more, why did she bother to stay?

Hermione pondered on this as she watched him wolf down his first decent meal in a week. She supposed this was all an act of her conscience – she couldn't bear going through the whole summer knowing that a fellow wizard and schoolmate was on the verge of death by starvation and household appliances. True, he was Malfoy, and he was Harry's Hogwarts nemesis, but Malfoy was a human being who deserved....

Hermione shoved aside these thoughts and set a place for herself. Harry and Ron were right. She was too nice sometimes. Malfoy was an idiot. He deserved nothing short of cold treatment. Here was a guy whose life purpose seemed to be torturing anyone who wasn't a pure-blooded Slytherin. His daily taunts "confirmed" Ron's worst insecurities about himself and his family. His petty insults made Harry's life unecessarily harder than it already was.

But what had he really done to her? Hermione thought back to the first year, second year, third year....ah, yes. He called her a Mudblood. The first time she'd been called that foul name, it hit straight at her heart. She felt inadequate and insecure despite all she'd accomplished in school. In time she'd gotten more used to the rascist name-calling, but she'd never forget the first sting that word delivered. Then there was third year. He called Hagrid an oaf, and she slapped him in the face. In fourth year, he and his friends helped publish slander against her and Harry, and he'd hexed her in square on the teeth. In fifth and sixth year....well, there was a lot less of Malfoy, Hermione thought with interest. She supposed there'd been more important things to worry about that a school bully who'd never outgrown his jealousy of and nastiness toward her and her friends.

Malfoy was annoying, yes, but he certainly wasn't anything more than that, Hermione mused, watching him heap a second serving of beef cobbler onto his plate. He was a minor hindrance, and nothing compared to Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

"Granger," the minor hindrance said suddenly, yanking her out of her thoughts. "Are we going to be doing this everday?"

Hermione scanned the newly tidied living room before answering. "There's only so much you can do at home, Malfoy, so we'll venture outside eventually."

"Eventually?" Draco whined. "Why not today? This place is dreadfully boring, Granger...well, worse now that you're..." His voice trailed away after remembering her threat earlier that morning. Not that he really took it seriously.

"There'll come a time for that, and trust me, that time isn't now," Hermione said, finishing her last bite of food. "Come on, it's time to wash the dishes again."

They unloaded the breakfast dishes from the dishwasher and put in the new ones. "C'mon, we'll have some fun next," she assured him.

"Fine then," Draco sighed resignedly, putting away a dish. "I – "he paused and frowned slightly. "What're you smiling at, Granger?"

Hermione handed him a two drink glasses and continued grinning. "It's been nearly an hour since you last verbally insulted me."

"You've been counting? How pathetic are you, Granger?"

"And you're actually helping me put away the dishes!" Hermione chirped happily, handing him a plastic bowl.

Draco shoved the bowl back into her arms. "You're not worth the creative insult, Granger."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were weakening," Hermione remarked with fake blissfulness.

"Shut up, Mudblood!" Draco barked, striding into the living room and down the hallway.

"Wait!" Hermione called after him. "Don't go to your room yet! There's still lots to learn!"

"I'll learn it tomorrow, all right Granger? Now piss off!" Draco shut the door loudly (it wasn't quite a slam), leaving Hermione with a living room to herself...and in the Carter's house, an empty living room wasn't just that – it was a whole entertainment system equipped with cable and surround sound.

Hermione snuggled on the couch and flipped on the TV. She surfed channels until she landed on a rerun of _Judging Amy._ This would do. She turned up the volume, waited, and watched.

An episode each of _Men Behaving Badly, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, _and half an episode of _Mr. Bean _later, Draco emerged from his room and peered around the hallway. "You're still here?" he asked grouchily.

"Like I would leave with this TV and sound system," Hermione scoffed. "Go on and finish whatever you were doing, Malfoy."

He didn't listen, but instead fixed his eyes on the television. "Should I be afraid to ask what this is?"

Hermione flipped the channel and landed on a domestic sitcom. "Granger!" Draco shouted again.

"What, Malfoy?" Hermione sighed, not taking her eyes off the screen.

"What is this thing?"

"Sit down and you'll see," Hermione replied, waving her hand toward the opposite end of the couch.

Draco sat down tentatively and began to watch. "Is...is there some kind of story going on here?" he asked after a few minutes. "It's almost like a play....but....in a box."

"Precisely," Hermione answered crisply. "This is called a television, one of the more creative muggle inventions. Unfortunately, it does waste a great deal of time, so I guess I'll have to turn it off."

She held the remote toward the TV and was just getting ready to press the off button when Draco began to protest. "Wait! Wait...this looks interesting, Granger."

Hermione shrugged and set down the remote. "Whatever you say, Malfoy."

Under normal circumstances, this would've been the wrong thing for Hermione to say to Draco Malfoy – however, nothing about this day, much less this vacation, was even close to beign normal.

Hermione tucked a pillow between her chest and knees and continued to watch the TV – yet somehow, her eyes kept being drawn to the head of white-blond hair off to her right.

She blinked twice. The confines of the home were making her batty.

She'd definitely make sure they got out tomorrow.

**A/N:** You just can't escape me, can you? I'm glad I was able to put a little more brain food into this chapter, since the last couple had a lot of slapstick stuff going on. Next time: you read the last line! They're going out into the big, big world! Thanks for reading, and please review! doles out Draco plushies


	5. From AM

**A/N: **Yes, I am still alive. No, I did not forget about this story. In fact, it's been on my mind along with my college apps, killer AP English homework, an upcoming (and totally unplanned) class banquet, and lots of other stuff I'm sure you'd rather not hear about. Well, thanks for reviewing! You guys are great! But first, to clear a few things up:  
**JuicyJuice: **In the first chapter, Draco told Hermione that Lucius wanted him to get a major head start and hands-on experience in the muggle world before taking muggle studies during the next year…but we all know better, right? It's okay, I understand your confusion – chapter three took…forever!  
**Everyone else: **Thanks for reading and reviewing! It means a lot to me.

So it is without further ado that I present

**Chapter 5 – From A.M……**

List No. 84: My Goals For This Summer:

1) Immerse myself in British Literature. Read the following literary works:

_Emma_ by Jane Austen

_Wuthering Heights_ by Emily Bronte

_Anna Karenina _by Leo Tolstoy

_Twelfth Night _by William Shakespeare

_Far From the Madding Crowd _by Thomas Hardy

_Heart of Darkness _by Joseph Conrad

_Gulliver's Travels_ by Jonathan Swift

_Paradise Lost _by John Milton

_A Tale of Two Cities _by Charles Dickens

_Great Expectations _by Charles Dickens

2) Plant my own flower garden

3) Learn how to drive a car

4) Study for NEWTS

5) Knit at least one item of house-elf clothing per day

List No. 85: REVISED GOALS

Due to the unprecedented preoccupation with a temporary next-door neighbor, goals previously set for this summer are to be revised and condensed in accordance with the present circumstances.

1) I simply could not bring myself to abandon this goal: Immerse myself in British Literature. Read the following literary works:

- _Far From the Madding Crowd_

_- Great Expectations_

_- _Every self-help book currently on the market.

2) For the rest of the summer:

- Help Malfoy. Merlin, I must be going mad.

---------------------------------------------

_18 June_

_Hermione – _

_HAHAHAHAHA! All right, I know I shouldn't laugh – but Malfoy in muggle London? What about that isn't funny? _

_Why don't you just leave him alone and give us an early visit? It's not like anyone would care if Malfoy wandered into the city, got lost, and got pulled into a dark alleyway by gang members……._

_- Ron_

_19 June_

_Ron – _

_Responsibility may be a foreign concept to you, but it's second nature for me to help those less fortunate than myself. I feel it is my responsibility to help out those in need, wizard or not, Slytherin or Gryffindor. _

_- Hermione_

_19 June _

_So would you help out a Death Eater in need? _

_Please don't tell me you actually felt sorry for ferret-boy, Hermione…._

_By the way, Mum sends her love…and Ginny's asking if Malfoy is really as … eurgh, Ginny, that's disgusting…!_

_- Ron_

_19 June_

_Firstly, Ron, Malfoy isn't a Death Eater. As far as I can tell, he's far from being one….at least for now. He's just a harmless bully, really. Don't mind him. _

_Please say hello to your family for me!_

_- Hermione_

_20 June_

_Hermione – _

_HA! I see what you're doing! You're trying to turn Malfoy into a S.P.E.W. project! You're going to plant pro-Muggleborn ideas into his head while you're at it! Not that that's a bad thing, but I don't think it's really going to work. He's MALFOY. He's not going to change, so you shouldn't waste your time being nice to him. Trust me, Hermione. He's a prat. _

_- Ron_

_20 June_

_For your information, Ron, I am NOT trying to plant subliminal ideas into Draco Malfoy's brain. He'll find out soon enough that the world he's prejudiced towards contains a breadth of technology and culture completely unknown to him. I'm just helping him make that discovery more conveniently. He'll never get anywhere by himself! You can't deny that Malfoy's in dire need of exposure – and it's my job to give it to him. _

_- Hermione_

_P.S. He's actually making quite a bit of progress around the house. Malfoy's still resistant to doing chores of any sort, but he now knows how to use the vacuum cleaner, the washing machine, the telly, and the electric stove! _

_20 June_

_Hermione - _

_You're using up all of this effort just so Malfoy can have some preparation for Muggle Studies next year? Won't he learn all of this in class anyway? He doesn't really want to learn about Muggles! He just wants a good grade in a class his father's making him take. _

_Though…Lucius making his son take Muggle Studies sounds a bit dodgy to me. D'you really think that's what Malfoy's here for? S'pose he's really here to spy on Muggles! Maybe it's all a part of Lucius' secret plot! Lucius would never plop the Malfoy heir into the middle of Muggleland just for a class! Shouldn't Draco Malfoy be training to be a Death Eater by now? I could ask Dad – he might've heard some things around the office. _

_- Ron_

_20 June_

_You're going mad, Ron. Why would the Malfoys even want to be around people they look down on? And this isn't Dumbledore I'm talking about – these are Muggles! To the Malfoys, they're lower than the lowest wizards alive. They're lower than squibs or Muggle-lovers and even Muggleborns. Do you think Malfoy's mum would really want her precious son tainted by Muggle ideals and customs?_

_Even if there were ill intent behind Malfoy's stay here, his family wouldn't bother to expend the energy to research Muggles. It would just be easier to violently eradicate them. Isn't that what the dark wizards have been doing for the past several years anyhow?_

_I'd rather Malfoy be here than in Death Eater camp, anyhow. We don't need any more of them._

_- Hermione_

_P.S. By the way, please don't get your family too deep into this. The situation's complicated enough without your lot worrying about me! _

_21 June_

_Fine then. Do whatever you need to do with Malfoy, but don't blame me for not warning you when he ends up ruining your summer. _

_- Ron_

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Journal Entry No. 10_

_Learned how to wash clothes the Muggle way, which takes a bloody long time. Granger told me I should be happy the washing machine and dryer were invented so I don't have to wash things by hand. _

_Then again, if I had my wand, I could perform a cleaning spell on every piece of dirty clothing and it'd be clean in a second. _

_Stupid Muggles. _

_Journal Entry No. 11_

_Watched a lot of TV today – some of the shows, such as Mr. Bean and Trigger Happy TV are just plain idiotic. Who really wants to watch a bumbling half-wit drink detergent or get his arm stuck up a turkey's arse?_

_The shows about men and women having affairs with each other and getting brain tumors are mildly interesting, however. Granger sure seems to enjoy them, despite all of the crying and face-slapping occurring during each episode. _

_I have a feeling my father would rather I watch something more instructive, like the National Geographic,, which seems to be centered on animals and nature. Or maybe he'd want me to watch the shows about Muggle technology. _

_I still don't see the point of my being here. So far, I've learned how to cook simple meals and clean the house. I've acquired all the skills of a house servant – and for what? What could Lucius possibly do with a vacuum cleaner or an electric fan? _

_Why my father suddenly wants to employ methods of eradication other than magic baffles me._

_Journal Entry No. 12_

_Finished _The Shining. _Bugger, Muggles have disturbing minds._

_Journal Entry No. 15  
Granger was going to take me to the "mall" today, but as the workers went on strike, we ended up staying home doing pretty much nothing. She seems to be obsessed with knowledge and learning. Who else would read thick Charms books or centuries-old papers on with-hunting for leisure?_

_I borrowed her Charms book. Can't let her get ahead._

_Journal Entry No. 16_

_One word: Blackadder_

_This can't be a good sign…._

_Journal Entry No. 17_

_I still don't see what my father could possibly use that isn't already trumped by our own technology. _

_Finally getting out of here tomorrow._

_------------------------------------_

"You cannot go out like that," Hermione stated firmly, looking Draco up and down with one eyebrow raised in amusement and the other bent into a little frown.

"And why not?" Draco asked, returning her expression. "This is one of my best sets of clothing."

"That doesn't mean it's appropriate," Hermione replied curtly. "No go up and change. We have lots to do today."

"For your information, Granger," Draco sneered. "This outfit is one of a kind, designed and tailored by Apollyon Riviera himself. See these buttons? Hand-sewn. See these cuffs? Hand-trimmed. See these – "

Hermione crossed her arms and threw him a look of pure irritation. "Are you deaf, or are you just that daft? You can't walk around in wizards' clothes! You need to blend in and look as if you actually belong here."

"I'm sorry to bust your little plan, Granger, but do I look like I have any Muggle clothes on hand to change into?" Draco asked snidely. He knew very well what she'd suggest but couldn't bring himself to give it.

"I'm sure there's something you can borrow from Mr. Carter's wardrobe," Hermione replied, just as he thought she would. "Oh come, his clothes are laundered, so it's not like there are germs on them."

Knowing there was nothing else he could do, Draco followed her down the hallway and into the master bedroom.

Of course, just because he surrendered to the Mudblood's commands didn't mean he had to be peaceful about it.

"No way," Draco refused fervently, as Hermione laid out several tartan shirts and neutral-toned trousers onto the bed. "I'm not going out looking like…a farmer!"

"Don't be silly, everyone dresses like this," Hermione assured him. "Unless you'd rather wear these." She pulled out a pair of white bell-bottoms from the back of the wardrobe. "Or would this be better?" She held out a shirt that said in big, red letters, "Dads do it in Parking Garages."

Draco snatched the tartan shirt and khaki trousers off the bed before throwing her out of the room.

---------------------

"I refuse to go out like this."

Hermione took one look at him and immediately put on an expression that resembled a cross between a very angry frown and a very amused grin. "Stop that, Granger," Draco commanded, fidgeting with the plastic button on the cuffs of his oversized sleeve. "You look constipated – and psychotic."

"I still look better than you, though," Hermione teased. "Oh Merlin, where's Colin's camera when you need it…."

"And what do you call that?" Draco asked, pointing disdainfully to her knee-length jean skirt and plain salmon-colored polo top. "Try and show some more class, Granger! I know you're not poor."

"Neither Muggle nor wizarding society revolve around fashion, Malfoy," Hermione retorted, even though she knew he didn't truly care about it. This was just another pathetic means of getting on her nerves to make himself look better.

No matter what, however, he'd never look better than her while dressed in the clothing of a middle-aged fly fisher.

It was only through a twisted series of events that Hermione finally got Draco out the door. "Don't fret about it," she said, marching him toward the neighborhood bus stop. "Most people don't pay much attention to what others are wearing."

"That's only what you think, Granger," Draco replied, looking sideways at her with narrow eyes. "People notice a girl in tight robes and a plunging neckline. People notice teenagers wearing truly bizarre headgear, such as a vulture hat or a lion headdress. Don't tell me you've forgotten Umbridge's pink cardigans – or Weasel's ratty homemade jumpers."

"If watching 'strange people' amuses you that easily, Malfoy, then go ahead, make my day," Hermione growled. "Look into a mirror and tell me what you see!"

"First of all, I didn't call anyone 'strange' – perhaps you think them strange yourself, but I for one, didn't say anything of the sort. Second of all, any mirror that I look into – "

" – would obviously shatter into pieces at your unsightliness," Hermione interjected. "Okay, the bus is almost here so – "

"The bus?" Draco said. "That's what we've been waiting all this time for? Can't it be summoned?"

"This is Muggle London, Malfoy, a bus can't be summoned," Hermione snorted. "Of course, I could've called a taxi, but then that would've cost too much – "

"Here's something you should know now, Granger," said Draco, pulling a forest-green pouch out of his pocket. "When you're with a Malfoy " - he pulled the drawstring – "you never" – in went an empty fist, and out came a bulging one – "have to worry" – he motioned for her to open her fingers – "about money."

Hermione gazed in wonder at the little pile of Galleons stacked on her palm. "You brought all of this? But – but you can't even use this here – I mean, the currency – "

Draco narrowed his eyes at her again. "Cripes, Granger, and people say you have a brain."

"Oh! But of course!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes glinting. "Okay, Malfoy, hold open that pouch again." She took a quick look around area to make sure it was empty, and after drawing her wand from her pocket, rolled two silky words off her tongue.

Immediately, the coins were transfigured into sizeable wads of bills. As the pouch grew wider, so did Hermione's eyes. "Wow, I didn't realize Galleons were worth so much…."

"I'm only letting you handle my money because it'll all be spent on me," Draco said brusquely, snatching back the pouch and attempting to stuff it into his front pocket. "Damn…shrink this, Granger."

"Sorry," Hermione replied coolly. "But after this point, I can't do any more magic without running of risk of Muggles seeing us. What do you think the store clerks would do if I enlarged our money right on the counter? Oh look, here's the bus!"

"Fine," Draco muttered, as the door hummed and slid open. "But I'll carry the money."

"Whatever you say, ferret-boy."

**----------------------------------**

**A/N: **So whaddya think? Did this leave you feeling happy….or crappy? I know it ended kind of abruptly, but I couldn't go into it any further without having the chapter drag on and on. This has actually been sitting around in my computer for awhile. I was going to make it a lot longer, but changed some details and decided I'd give you guys a taste of what's coming. I'm sorry for not updating for so long, so thanks for reading! Feedback (including concrit) will be appreciated )

**Chapter 6 (….to P.M.): **More culture clash! Draco wants fast food. Hermione wants a fast death.


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